


I Hate You

by PhantomWriterAnon



Series: A Robert/Damien Love Story [1]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Canon Trans Character, Family Drama, Fights, Forgiveness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecure Damien, M/M, Men Crying, Transphobia, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 18:59:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12138999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomWriterAnon/pseuds/PhantomWriterAnon
Summary: He supposed that he should have expected it. Really, it was a miracle that it had taken almost seventeen years before it did... but that didn't make it hurt any less.His son hated him. He hated him so much that he didn't want him to be his father anymore.





	I Hate You

He supposed that he should have expected it. Really, it was a miracle that it had taken almost seventeen years before it did... but that didn't make it hurt any less. 

The silence was broken by Lucien's bedroom door slamming shut. Damien started a little, a single tear streaking down his cheek. His son hated him. He hated him so much that he didn't want him to be his father anymore. And Damien felt like Lucien had reached into his chest, ripped out his heart, and crushed it in his hands. 

He couldn't even remember what the fight was about. As such things went, it was rather one-sided - Lucien had spent the better part of a half hour  _screaming_ at Damien about everything under the sun. Damien was too flabbergasted to do much more than stand there like a human dart board. Lucien had never yelled at him before, especially over something as forgettable as whatever it was that they were fighting about. 

Moving on auto-pilot, he filled their old tea kettle with water and set it to boil. Tea would make him feel better. It... his favorite mug slipped out from between his fingers and shattered in the sink. He stared blankly at the mess of colorful porcelain shards. A shiver chased down his spine and he choked back a sob, his face crumbling as the tears began to rain down like a waterfall. 

Why was he crying? It was just a mug - he had a plethora of them. Accidents happen. 

He knew that it was unwise to start digging around the sink in his current state of distress, but he couldn't have Lucien cutting himself on a stray piece of glass. That is, of course, if the temperamental teen ever decides to leave his room again. Loud, discordant music drifts down from his bedroom, the bass so heavy he can feel the floor beneath him quaking - the idea of Lucien reemerging from his bedroom anytime soon seems less and less likely.

"Ow!" He yanked his hand back. Through the blur of tears, he could see dark, red blood dripping from his middle finger. As if to add insult to injury, the kettle on the stove began to whistle obscenely. Groaning, he stuffed his bleeding appendage between his lips and wandered over to the stove to turn off the burner.

Wound care first, broken glass second.

In the upstairs bathroom, there was a first-aid kit in the medicine cabinet. He didn't know how well equipped it was to handle a cut that probably needed stitches, but... he released the finger with a wet  _pop_ and carefully inspected the damage. It was still bleeding heavily - at least, more than he would have liked. He rushed upstairs, doing his best to ignore the sharp pain in his chest when he wandered past Lucien's room, and stuck his hand under a stream of lukewarm water.

Being in that bathroom summons a whole new wave of tears. On the back of the door was Lucien's old growth chart, with a comically oversized frog standing on a lillypad and happily exclaiming "look at how big you've grown!" Lucien wanted him to paint over it, but... Damien didn't have the heart to do it.

In the medicine cabinet, just to the left of the first-aid kit, was Lucien's cherry flavored cough medicine. His son had never been very good about taking his medication, and so even now he had to have the pharmacist put the sugary flavoring into the mixture. Damien let out a soft whimper, before grabbing the kit with his good hand and slamming the cabinet shut with a bit more force than necessary. Wiping his eyes on the soft cotton sleeve of his work shirt, he sets to work.

* * *

"Something's bothering you." Leave it to Mary to rip a band-aid off a bullet wound. Damien was sitting on the floor, a ten-week-old puppy squirming happily in his lap... he petted it softly, his expression distant. "Do I need to go bash in some loser's skull?"

Damien's eyes widened comically, "Please don't." And then, a little softer, "I fear that my relationship with my son has taken a most unfortunate turn and..." He trailed off, tears silently streaking down his cheeks. The puppy began to paw at his ruffled white button-down, yipping happily in an effort to cheer him up.

Mary's features softened, "Kids are temperamental, Dames. Especially seventeen-year-old boys. One minute you're their best friend, the next they hate you. It's normal."

If possible, hearing this seemed to make Damien even more despondent. "We have fought before, yes. But it has never escalated to the point where he no longer wished me to be his father before." He sniffled. Mary offered him the box of tissues from the front desk. "If only I... I knew what I'd done to..."

"I know it hurts, honey, but I'm sure that he didn't mean it." Mary stroked his back comfortingly. "Now, dry those pretty eyes before you ruin your make-up."

"I-I just want to make it better. To fix whatever's hurting my boy-"

The words that Damien left unspoken hung heavily in the air. Damien knew that his son loved and respected him just as he was, but perhaps he'd grown tired of having to defend him from his less-tolerant classmates... Or perhaps Damien had done or said something unintentionally... Or, and this was easily the most terrifying option of all, he and Lucien had simply drifted apart because Damien was too busy trying to make ends meet to spend time with his son.

Lucien had always been a fiercely independent child. It was why he wanted to save up and buy his own car - he didn't want to put more on Damien's plate than he already had to deal with. He had his own life and friends and Damien was immensely proud of the young man that he was becoming. But... perhaps the fact that he'd chosen to raise Lucien on his own had  _forced_ the boy to become independent, to become increasingly self-reliant as his parent was around less and less often.

He didn't even realize that his breathing had started to come faster and faster until Mary squatted beside him and drew him into her arms, squeezing him as tightly as she could. The scent of her perfume washed over him, a calming, grounding scent. His heart hammered wildly in his ribcage and he struggled to catch his breath.

"Shh," Mary ran her fingers through his silky black hair soothingly. His tears soaked the soft brown fabric of her sweater. "It's going to be alright, honey."

Lucien had taught him a little trick for dealing with panic attacks. Think of five things around you that you can touch, four things you can hear, three you can see, two you can smell, and one you can taste. As he clutched onto Mary, he thought of the cold tile floor beneath him, the puppy whining in his lap, his dear friend before him, the keys to the puppy's crate that were still in his hand, and... and... his chest seized up once more until he focused in on Mary's cross necklace, the cool metal pressed against his chest.

What could he hear? Mary was humming softly - was that a lullaby? The air conditioner was droning on in the distance. On the other side of the shelter, the cats were mewling. It must be time to feed them. One more. The dog, having grown tired of not recieving any attention, wandered off, it's toe nails  _clanking_ softly on the tile floor.

Sight. He could see the front counter, where they filed all of the adoption paperwork. On the floor just beside them was a box of tissues - the covering for the box had been crocheted by an elderly woman who liked to come by and coo at the kitties. He could feel the pressure in his chest begin to loosen when his eyes fell on wall by the front door, where some of Maple Bay's youngest drew pictures of the shelter animals that they would be adopting. 

Smell, that was easy. This close to Mary, all he could smell was her favorite french vanilla perfume. But he knew that the shelter carried the vague scent of antiseptic, not unlike a hospital.

Finally, he could taste the saltiness of the tears that continued to pour from his eyes. 

"Feeling a little bit better now, honey?" She asked gently. Damien nodded, drawing back a little. Mary took this opportunity to wad a tissue and blot at his eyes, silently grateful for the miracle that was waterproof mascara. "Would you like me to talk to Lucien and see if I can get to the bottom of this?"

Damien sniffled, "If by talk, you mean actually use real words and not, say, threaten him within an inch of his life... then yes, you're efforts would be most appreciated."

"Dames, you know that I would  _never_ hurt a child." She pressed a kiss to his forehead, "Do you think you can handle closing down the shelter on your own today? If so, I'll head over right now and see if we can't sort this whole thing out."

The goth man offered her a watery smile, "I think that I can manage."

* * *

Mary knew where Damien kept his spare key - there was a handsome, shoulder-high shrub just beside his front door, and the key was buried in the soil. Digging it out, she unlocked the front door and was immediately greeted by blaring alternative rock music and the heady scent of burned cheese. The culprit was currently wandering around the kitchen shirtless, singing loudly and off-key into his spatula microphone. 

He was utterly oblivious to Mary's presence until the older woman slapped a pack of Newport Menthol Lites onto the kitchen island, a peace-offering of sorts. 

Damien knew about Lucien's not-so-little pack-a-day habit, but he didn't necessarily encourage it. Mary, on the other hand, had learned that the quickest way to the boy's heart was through his nicotine. He was so much easier to deal with when he wasn't craving, after all.

Lucien's dark eyes flickered between the pack and Mary's unreadable face, before he took the peace-offering and cracked it open. The stove was still on, and he used it to light the cancer stick. As he took the first long, smooth drag, Mary opened the fridge and grabbed the bottle of red wine that she'd cracked open the last time she'd been over. She wasn't entirely sure what to expect out of this impromtu meeting with Lucien, but if Damien's despondency was any indication... it wasn't going to be good.

Much to her surprise, however, Lucien is the first one to break the silence. "I take it that my old man sent you?"

"Do you have any idea how much you hurt him? I haven't seen him so depressed in  _years_ Lucien." All of the fight seems to drain out of him at her words, and his body seems to slump forward. "What brought this on?" 

At first glance, it seemed as if Lucien was putting more effort into blowing a perfect smoke ring than answering her... but then, his eyes fell closed and he sighed. "It's dumb."

"I'm sure that it is. You're still gonna tell me about it, though." She took a sip of her wine, "And after that, you're gonna apologize to your dad before he completely loses his shit." 

"It really has nothing to do with him at all." Lucien mumbled. 

"You're gonna have to speak up a little, Luc. These ears aren't as young as they look." Mary snarked.

Lucien rolled his eyes, but complied. "It's... Paisley." A soft flush colors Lucien's pasty cheeks, "She's... kinda-sorta my girlfriend, I guess. We don't really do labels. Dad doesn't know." He sighed, "It's not really my place to talk about it, but she's going through some shit. Her dad... he's not a great guy. I don't know all the details myself, but I've done her make-up enough times to know that if I ever meet the bastard I'm gonna slowly and painfully rearrange his face.'

"I just... my old man is like a fountain of unconditional love, which is kinda annoying but also endearing. He's what a parent is supposed to be, y'know?" Flicking his ashes into the sink, he continued, "Paisley doesn't have that. And it makes me sick to think that there are parents out there that aren't as embarrassing and awkward as my old man. That they think the way to show their love isn't through unwanted PDA, but black eyes and broken bones.'

"And I don't understand why someone as shitty as me deserves such a fantastic dad, while someone as amazing as Paisley has to be afraid to go home." He finished brokenly, his breath hitching as he failed to contain a sob.

Well, that honestly hadn't been what she was expecting. A moment passed, before Mary closed the distance between them and drew him into a tight hug. It was even more startling the way that Lucien clung to her, much like Damien had clung to her earlier at the animal shelter. This sort of situation... it must've been incredibly difficult for Lucien. Not only to feel as if he deserved to be put in such an undesireable situation, but to have to stand back and let someone he loved sort that sort of thing out for themself...

He wasn't lashing out at Damien at all. Not really. He was lashing out at a situation so far out of his control, he couldn't even begin to understand where to start to remedy it.

"Normally I don't condone chain smoking, but..." she took another cigarette out of the pack and lit it off the end of Lucien's dying stick, before handing it to the teen. "First of all, how the hell did you manage to get a girlfriend without your dad catching wind?"

Lucien smirked a little, slightly more comfortable with this line of questioning. "We hang at the park, mostly. If you go in the early afternoon, none of the other dads are around and it's actually kinda nice." He shrugged, "When we're not at the park, we're usually out back in dad's garden. Paisley has a thing about flowers."

"So, you mean to say that the two of you skip school to hang out while your dad is at work." Mary said, her tone matter-of-fact.

"I am neither confirming nor denying the validity of that statement." Lucien deadpanned. 

"She sounds like such a fantastic influence." The elder rolled her eyes.

"I happen to think that the two of you would get on famously."

Mary sighed, "I really think that you need to talk to him about this. Tell him how you're feeling, at the very least. You really hurt him this afternoon." She reminded him gently. "I think that you'll be pleasantly surprised by how understanding your old man can be."

Lucien took one last drag on his cigarette before nodding shortly, "...okay."

* * *

 

Damien had gotten in around ten, and had decided to make himself a light dinner before retiring to bed. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it was difficult to stifle the swell of pain that manifested when he stepped in the front door and Lucien was nowhere in sight. With a sigh, he made his way into the kitchen, rolling his sleeves up as he went. He decided on something simple - a raspberry jam and almond butter sandwich on white bread. 

There was an open pack of Newport Menthol Lites on the kitchen island, which Damien scooped up and desposited in the drawer where he kept excess candles and lighters. The kitchen smelled vaguely of cigarette smoke, so he knows that Lucien left his room at some point during the night.

He began humming softly, trying to fill the awful silence as he searched through the various cabinets trying to find the almond butter. He didn't hear the soft  _pat-pat-pat_ of sock clad feet on tile, didn't know that his son was approaching until lanky arms wrapped tight around his middle and a head buried itself between his shoulder blades. He would have been scared, had he not immediately recognized his son's flaking nail polish...

"Whatever is the matter, darling?" He tried his best to keep his voice even, but it was difficult as Lucien's closeness caused all sorts of painful memories from earlier that morning to resurface. 

"...I'm sorry." Lucien mumbled, his words difficult to decipher as his mouth was pressed tightly into the fabric of Damien's shirt. "I opened my mouth and I spoke without thinking, and I wasn't even really mad at you, it's just..."

Damien turned and offered his son a small smile. Lucien couldn't ignore how strained it looked, however. "You have nothing to apologize for, my love. Aren't I always asking you to be open with me about your feelings? If that is how you truly feel -," his mouth began to wobble as a sob chased up his throat.

"But it's not! You're a fucking great dad, okay? The best that I could ever ask for." Lucien cut him off.

"Language, Lucien." Damien chastised gently. But there was no malice in his tone.

Lucien continued on as if he had not been interrupted, "I love you, okay? And sometimes knowing that you love me as much as you do... it hurts. I don't know why someone like me deserves a dad like you, that loves me despite all the shit I put you through. You could just as easily stop caring and nobody would blame you -,"

Now, it was Damien's turn to cut Lucien off. "I will never stop loving you, no matter what you do, or say... You are my precious boy and I would do anything to ensure that you are safe and happy. And if that means that you desire that I... change, somehow..."

"Stop! Please, just..." Lucien was crying now, sobbing into his father's chest. Damien ran his fingers through his hair soothingly. "Don't say stuff like that, okay?"

"I only want what is best for you, my love."

"Then don't change. Ever."

Damien ended up fixing two sandwiches, and together they make their way into the living room. Lucien had attached himself to his father's side like another appendage and the goth cannot claim to be entirely upset. It had been too long since he'd had such contact with his son and it was doing wonders to heal the aching in his chest. Once they have finished eating and one of the earlier episodes of Naruto was playing on the television (he believed this was the episode where Sasuke and Naruto kiss, the inspiration for his dad's favorite piece of fanfiction), Lucien spoke up.

"I really am sorry for how I acted, old man." There was a considerable pause, before he mumbled, "Love you."

Damien smiled softly, "All is forgiven, my love."

Lucien nodded, letting this sink in for a moment. And then, he blurts out, "Then I need to ask you something. It's about... a girl. Her name is Paisley."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *insert evil laughter* yes, my lovelies, the story does end there - but do not fret! Paisley will return, as will all the lovely dateable dads (including our very own dadsona) in the next installment!


End file.
